Hero
by Cricket Tealeaf
Summary: Unsub killing unsubs. Takes place pre-series. Morgan new to the Bau and Reid has yet to join. New chapter 5 today
1. Chapter 1

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TV Shows » Criminal Minds » Hero

Cricket Tealeaf

Author of 6 Stories 1. Chapter 12. Chapter 23. Chapter 3

Rated: T - English - Reviews: 1 - Updated: 06-30-10 - Published: 06-28-10 - id:6092095

From quiet homes and first beginning, out to the undiscovered ends, there's nothing worth the wear of winning, but laughter and the love of friends-Hilaire Belloc

Las Vegas, Nevada

Julie Ambrose was thirty-two years old and very attractive, with a willowy figure, soft brown hair and clear blue eyes. To her friends, she was shy and soft-spoken. To know her was to love her.

To the men she killed, she was a cruel and pitiless menace. A dominatrix that pushed things over the edge and beyond. Those who loved her would be shocked at her profession, let alone the carnage she had created.

To SSA Aaron Hotchner and the Vegas PD she was the third in a string of murders. But this time, potential unsubs were being hunted and slaughtered in increasingly creative manners. Something pertaining to the murders they themselves had commited.

"When something like this happens, I wonder if we should even bother. Maybe we should let the guy just go about his business," the newest BAU recruit said. Aaron looked away from the body and at him. His name was Derek Morgan and he had recently been pulled from Chicago PD to the BAU. Jennifer Jareau stood a few feet from him and she was watching Hotch closely to gage his reaction.

"You used to be a cop and you don't know that vigilantism is a crime? These people can't take the law into their own hands."

Morgan looked offended. "I know that. All I'm trying to say is that it makes things easier for us."

"Except that we have a serial killer to track down," JJ interrupted.

Morgan looked over at her and said no more. The hint of a smile quirked at the edge of Aaron's mouth. JJ caught this and smiled as well, at the rarity of the sight. Their gazes met, a silent acknowledgement that they were having similar sentiments but weren't to be expressed. But Morgan saw none of this and was no doubt irritated by their responses. Hotch decided to address it later on.

The house was deadly still and quiet. He sat heavily down in the old recliner in the living room. Another day had slid by to little avail. His thoughts dwelling on his actions and the unforgivable act he had commited. He sighed, rubbing his forehead and leaned back in the chair, remembering her struggles, her protests. But she was gone and the very walls seemed to blame him. Indeed the silence of his home seemed to close around him, needling and accusing.

The sound of sirens pulled Spencer from his reverie. Several vehicles rushed past the house and faded into the distance. Dogs up and down the streets took up the call, howling their displeasure. He stood and went across the room, turning on the tv, pausing in front of it. Another murder, another girl dead. The FBI were involved. No details were being given on the body's condition, meaning it was particularly gruesome and given that this was Las Vegas...

He turned it back off and headed to the kitchen. A book lay open on the counter. He looked at it. Clustering Documents with an Exponential-family Approximation of the Dirichlet Compound Multinomial Distribution by Charles Elkan. He closed it, having found it simple and tedious.

Someone knocked on the door. Spencer, having thrown together a sandwich, left the kitchen and crossed the living room again. He opened the door without thinking, realizing a moment too late that that was not the wisest course of action. Still, there was no serial killer waiting at the door, but a young girl close to his age.

"Hi, I'm Aimee, I live over there," she said pointing in a seeming random way. "I was wondering if you have any coffee. My husband gets really cranky if he doesn't have a cup after work and I just don't feel like going to the store."

"Yeah, I think so. Come on, I'll just go get it. I have tons."

She smiled at him. "That would be great."

Spencer returned to the kitchen and with a wistful sigh, knew that this would be the high point of his day.

"So, you live alone," Aimee called from where she waited.

"Yeah for six months now. My mom used to stay here but...," he broke off unwilling to go further.

"Must be lonely. I see you leave in the morning, sometimes."

"I go to school. I had a job at Tony's but they fired me." He left the kitchen with a small jar of coffee.

She wrinkled her nose. "That's too bad. You would think though, that you're friends from there would come see you."

He smiled uncomfortably. "Don't really have those. No one really notices me anyway."

"I noticed," she said softly.

He handed her the coffee. She blinked and looked at it for a moment before taking it. "Thanks. My husband will be glad." She quickly left.

Spencer settled back into the chair after locking the door. He wondered for a few minutes why she had seemed a little disappointed. He put it from his mind as he tried the tv again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Did you ever get a chance to talk to Linda," Spencer asked the cashier, pushing his things towards her.

"Yeah, I did. See the thing is...she said no."

"Ah," Spencer said. He gave her a disapointed smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding sincere.

"It's okay."

"Hi neighbor," Aimee's voice rang out.

Spencer frowned, looking in her direction. "What are you doing here?"

Aimee looked affronted. "I'm shopping," she said with a touch of hostility.

"Isn't this a little out of the way?"

"You're here," she pointed out.

"Yeah but I'm trying to get a job."

"I shop here all the time."

Spencer shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter."

"A job, huh? My husband insists I be a housewife," she said, a little sadly.

So she is unhappy in her marriage, Spencer thought. Why is she telling me? He picked up his bags and left the store.

Much to his annoyance, as she was driving past, she slowed and stopped. "Want a ride?"

He sighed, inwardly. "No, the exercise is good for me."

"You sure," she persisted.

He tried not to sound annoyed but wasn't sure that he succeeded. "It's fine."

"Suit yourself." Her car disapeared into to the distance.

Three hours later Spencer found himself inside of a cafe called Providence, with a stack of books and his laptop. A full pot of coffee sat on the table in front of him. He poured a cup and added sugar, tasted it and added more sugar. He adjusted his glasses and opened the book sitting on top.

"The unsub is toying with us," Hotch said to Morgan. "Normally vigilantes act out of desperation or a misguided sense of justice but not this guy. He seeks to undermine the local authorities and us. Through the photos and messages that the local PD has been sent he makes his intentions clear. He seeks to show the general public that he is superior and more efficient than the law enforcement officials by removing violent offenders from the streets. JJ's here," he said, not changing his professional tone. Because of this, it took a moment for Morgan to register the last thing he had said but by then JJ was already at the table.

"Wow, you looked pissed," Morgan told her

"Media vultures. And these heels," JJ said loosening the straps on her shoes.

Hotch stared at something off to the side for a few seconds before returning his attention back to JJ. "What happened?"

"They're are being idiots. Playing it like this unsub is some kind of hero. They don't realize that this is just another monster roaming the streets."

"No more than I expected. When you have the five o'clock press conference, give them the truth and hope that the people listen. The last thing we need is civilians impeding the investigation." Hotch looked away again, but then back, glancing at each of them in turn. "What do you guys make of that?"

Spencer finished the second cup and poured a third, again adding more sugar. The dispenser was nearly empty, he gestured for the waitress to refill it. He turned back to his books, not yet aware that he had captured the attention of all four agents.

"My god, could he look any more nerd," JJ said, taking in the sweater vest, khaki pants and dark rimmed glasses.

"Is that real," Morgan said quietly.

"I thinks so," Hotch answered. He watched with growing interest the way the boy flew through the massive tomes, moving from one to the other. "JJ," he said, tilting his head slightly in the direction of the boy.

She made a face. "Me? Really, Hotch?"

"You're closest to his age. Go talk to him. I want a way to contact him."

She looked incredulous. "Because he can read fast?"

"JJ," he repeated.

She scowled at him, pushing away from the table.

"What are you thinking," Morgan asked Hotch, leaning in closer to hear what he said.

"Yeah, I see it," he added, scrutinizing the boy much the same way that Hotch was.

JJ made a scathing noise. "I see a skinny kid dressed like MegaGeek," she said, skeptically. She then turned on her diplomatic skills, and put on a smile as she crossed the dining area.

"Hi," JJ said cautiously.

Spencer jumped, knocking over his cup.

JJ stifled a laugh, and maintained her cool, professional look.

He looked up at her and his eyes went wide. "You're FBI," he said.

JJ raised an eyebrow and turning her head, gave Hotchner a wary look. "How did you know that?"

"You had a press conference yesterday. I saw it on tv."

"Oh," she said relaxing a bit.

A thought occured to him. "Why does the FBI want to talk to me? I can think of two reasons and neither one is good."

"The FBI doesn't want to talk to you. I want to talk to you," she said firmly.

"But why? I'm nobody."

"I doubt that," she said slowly, looking at his books. "Can you really do that?"

"What?"

She indicated his books. "Read things that fast?"

"The human brain is actually capable of processing 400 billion bits of information per second."

She gave him a blank stare.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly.


	3. Chapter 3

JJ mouthed a silent 'Wow.' "You're a student."

Spencer nodded. He debated whether to mention that he already gotten to doctorates and was working on a third, but in the end he kept his mouth shut.

"JJ," Hotch called.

"Um, it looks like I have to go. If it's okay, can I give my boss over there your name and number?"

"Why?"

"I-"

"JJ," Hotch said more insistantly this time.

"Just if you would please..."

Spencer felt unsure but after a moments hesitation, scribbled his information on a napkin and handed it to her.

She gave him a radiant smile. "Thanks. He'll be in touch."

Spencer watched her go, bemused by the turn of events. The FBI! What could they possibly want with him?

"What happened," JJ asked catching up with the others outside.

"There's been another murder. A male vic this time. Suspected serial rapist."

"Did they say how he died?"

Morgan hid a smile behind his hand. Hotch glared at him. "Try and maintain a professional decorum."

"Of course. I apologize," Morgan said. He turned to JJ and told her,"He bled to death."

She frowned. "Why's that funny?" She handed Hotch the napkin, with a quick look back at the boy in the coffee shop.

Hotch put his phone. A pause. "James. I need everything you can find on a Spencer Reid. Thanks." He closed it and slipped it back into his pocket.

_Jake Lawson snatched at the handcuffs tethering him to the shower rod, his wrists bloody from the effort. Slowly the metal cuffs were wearing away at it. Soon it would give. Either that or his hands would become slippery enough with sweat and blood that he could free his hands._

_Suddenly the door was kicked open. Jake froze. A woman stood in the door way, face hidden beneath a ski mask. "Hello there, handsome," she said in a low breathy voice. Jake felt himself grow hard, despite the situation he was in._

_She laughed softly. "Glad to see me, are you?" She drew close, producing a small knife. He eyed it with growing alarm. "All those girls you hurt. Especially the little ones..."_

"His genitals were removed with a very sharp object, causing him to bleed out."

JJ didn't know what to say. She glanced at Morgan and gave him a small smile, careful not to let Hotchner see. But he was distracted anyway when his cellphone rang.

"What do you have for me, James?"

"I found information on a Dr. Spencer Reid. Could that be who you're looking for?"

"No this was a kid. Maybe nineteen years old. Most likely younger."

"Says he graduated from high school at age twelve. Are you sure its not him?"

Hotch paused. "Here in Las Vegas?"

"Yeah. School transcripts. Not finding anything criminal, although..."

"Yes?"

"He had his mother Baker Acted for Schizophrenia. Happened about six months ago, just after he turned eighteen."

"What about the kid? Any sign of mental illness?"

"Just the mother, but these things are generally inherited. Other than that, holds a PH.D in Mathematics as well as one in Engineering and a Bachelor's in Psychology." Hotch turned and stared at JJ. She met his gaze, looking confused.

"What is it," she asked him.

He ended the call with James. "I'm just finding it strange that the cafe's name was Providence."

"What do you mean?"

"It means a manifestation of divine will."

"I know that but I'm still not following you."

"I'll explain later. Right now, lets focus on the case," he said. But Aaron Hotchner would have trouble following his own advice


	4. Chapter 4

"He's not our Unsub," Hotch said, decisively.

"You don't know that. We are looking for a white male between the ages of 18 and 20, who lives alone. It could be him," Morgan countered. The unmarked SUV they were sitting in idled just beyond the curb.

"The profile calls for a severely narcissicistic individual. Spencer Reid doesn't fit that description."

Morgan shrugged. "So...why are we here?"

"There is a tech at Quantico. A Kevin Lynch."

"Yeah I know about him. But what does it have to do with this?"

Hotch entertained a smile but it quickly faded. "Did anyone ever tell you about his job interview?"

"But that's just cruel Hotch. You can't be serious."

"It's a useful strategy. It will show how he reacts in a hostile situation."

Morgan stared at him. "Just don't enjoy it too much."

Again came the almost smile. Hotch shut off the engine and said, "Lets go."

* * *

Spencer tossed the remote onto the couch. On the television screen was a broadcast on Seneca. Philosophy intrigued him and it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

Out of nowhere there came a vigorous pounding on the door. Someone on the otherside bellowed, "FBI! OPEN UP!" He froze up staring at the door in shock. A second later they kicked it open and two guns were pointed at his face. "Hands in the air," one of them roared at him.

The other seemed to disagree, yelling, "ON THE GROUND! _Now._" The last word came out as a growl. It was enough to spur him to action and he dropped to the floor.

One of the men pinned him to the ground with his knee, while securing the handcuffs. "Did you think it was coincidence we met in the coffee shop? We've been watching you for months. And you thought you were smarter than us," the man snarled at him. He was yanked roughly to his feet and dragged all the way to the SUV.

"This is a mistake," he protested but the look he recieved for it shut him up quickly. He was shoved into the back seat. The door was slammed hard.

* * *

"I haven't done anything," Spencer said. He stretched his arms out in front of him and stared at the handcuffs, an expression of complete bewilderment on his face.

"Shhh...You shouldn't be talking," JJ said soothingly. "Not until your lawyer gets here."

"I don't have a lawyer. I'm a scholarship student and I don't have a job. I can't afford one," he said, anxiously.

She was unable to conceal the look of profound horror that briefly crossed her face. "Oh," she said, very quietly.

"I haven't done anything," he repeated.

"You know who we are," Hotch said in an icy voice.

"I saw her on tv once," Spencer said, with a quick look at JJ. "A press conference about the vigilante killer. You're part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Hotch gave him a shark-like grin. "That's right, dig your grave a little deeper. She never mentions that she's with the BAU. _Never_."

"I've...done research." He swallowed nervously.

JJ sighed wearily and rubbed her forehead. "I told you not to say anything," she told him.

He gave her a frightened look and she nearly ruined the game. The deer in headlights image he projected nearly made her laugh. She covered her mouth to hide just in case she accidently smiled.

From the other side of the glass, Morgan and Gideon watched the scene unfold. "They certainly have him squirming."

Gideon nodded but remained silent and continued to watch.

"We have the evidence. We know what you've done," Hotch needled.

"What exactly-"

"We'll ask the questions here!" For effect, Hotch made to slam the table with his fist and then made a show of restraining himself. JJ got to her feet, suddenly and let her eyes dart between the two of them.

Morgan couldn't help himself, at that point he burst into laughter and hoped that this room was soundproof.

Spencer gave her an imploring look. She appeared to compose herself and put her hand gently on his shoulder. She turned back to Hotch and attempted to stare him down. "That's enough," she said authoritatively.

He gave her a venomous scowl. "Who do you think you are," he said, in dangerously, quiet voice.

"That's enough," Gideon announced. He leaned forward and rapped the glass with his knuckles.

Hotch's nostrils flared at the sound but after giving Spencer one more cold look, he left the interrogation room with JJ right behind him.

Good cop, bad cop. Before this moment, he had considered the method cliche and laughable but just now it was working. He would've told them anything, had he actually had something to confess.

"Enjoying yourself," Gideon remarked, wryly, to Hotch.

The other said nothing, merely shrugged with an amused look on his face.

Twenty minutes they were gone. The waiting was worse, his fear growing as the seconds ticked by. Desperate for something to do, he looked wildly around the room. A single piece of paper stuck to a small bulletin. He crossed the room and pulled it free. He looked at the dark glass and began speaking aloud, "There is a significant vertical slant indicating an individual possesed of self-control and self-discipline. Also, with the capitals large and well-formed: self-confidant, ambitious, proud and dignified."

"Who wrote that," Morgan asked.

"I did," Gideon told him.

"A high t-bar that connects with the next letter: resourceful, with a quick intellect and visionary characteristics. Um...letters m and n with sharply pointed tops and bottoms: analytical, investigative," he paused and let out a nervous laugh, "It makes sense if he's on this team. Or she. The letter e is left wide open and coupled with the greek g indicates one who is an excellent listener, again with a quick mind. Philosophical, with a well-honed sense of humor."

Hotch and Morgan stared at Gideon. "I'd like to think so," he said, simply.

"This is someone who is exceedingly competent at your profession," Spencer finished. He carefully reattached the slip of paper to the board.

Gideon leaned forward. "And now, my friend, it's your turn. You're very insecure but you've turned into an asset rather than a flaw. 'My intelligence is all I have.' So in crisis you turn to it. Attention to detail. You too are resourceful." He sat back again and took several minutes to reflect.

Finally, he turned to Hotch and said, "Alright, you have my attention."


	5. Chapter 5

_I know, I know, it's about time I take a break from my Wicked fics and give some attention to CM. This has actually been in the works for awhile. Enjoy._

* * *

"So it was…a joke," Spencer asked JJ.

She shrugged. "Pretty much."

He stared at her incredulous. "I'm not finding it very funny."

"But you have to look at it from our end."

"...I guess. No, I still don't see it."

_Yeah, it was all good for a laugh but what if he sues? _JJ hadn't thought of this. Neither had the others apparently.

He certainly had the grounds to sue. There were property damages and not to mention the emotional stress it would have caused. She sighed and hoped for the best.

* * *

Had he been anyone else, Spencer probably would have gone slamming back into his apartment. But as it was he placated his anger by tossing his keys unceremoniously in a random corner.

He collapsed on the couch as the accusing silence of the place embraced him. It had a way of suffocating his emotions.

Though he would never admit it to them, the event had given him a bit of a thrill. That someone had given him notice. He never considered himself particularly attention-seeking but the last two days had changed his perspective a little. Maybe he liked being noticed? Although maybe not in that way.

He tried to sleep.

A great while later a strange noise caught his attention. He was so exhausted, both physically and mentally, that he didnt quite wake up completly. He lifted his head and gazed blearily at a figure clad and masked in black looming over him. His sleep-deprived mind momentarily dismissed this as inconsquential.

He abruptly came fully to his senses and began to jump up. But he had given them the oppurtunity they needed. They slapped something over his face and held it there.

There was a strange sharp odor, something he wasn't familiar with. Before he could make sense of it though, he lost conciousness.

* * *

It was growing dark when Gideon went up the stairs to Spencer Reid's apartment. His team had been out of line, and he was especially surprised by Aaron Hotchner's participation in the prank. It wasn't exactly like him. Of course they were all overworked and this case was proving to be particularly tiresome. Maybe that was the reason for his behavior. Still, it was little excuse.

And Gideon wasn't sure if he liked that Derek Morgan.

Call him old-fashioned, and some in the bureau certainly did, but Jason Gideon believed firmly in the power of a heartfelt apology. He just hoped this kid would too.

He reached the top of the stairs and his intuition took over. Everything looked perfectly normal and there was no sign of a struggle or even that anything was even amiss. But he felt a deep sense of forboding. And as of yet he had never been wrong.

* * *

Spencer came slowly awake. Where was he and what had happened? It all returned in a flash. He groaned, more from frustration than discomfort, although his head was pounding. He chided himself for the way he had been thinking earlier. This certainly was not welcome attention. He did a quick appraisal of his surroundings.

This was some sort of storage container, like a...

Before he could finish that thought he heard the sound of a lock turning. Thinking fast, he feigned unconciousness.


End file.
